bathos
by walkingdisastersharkchild
Summary: A/H A/U and here is a story with no line, no middle and no real end. Shika-centric. One-shot


**see katharine, i can write a one-shot. **

**haha. ha. ha.**

**please enjoy a story with no line, no middle, and no real end.**

**reviews are delighted in.  
**

**prompts: an earthquake in adelaide, creaming soda and cobra starship.**

**disclaimer: deidara. kthanxbye.**

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Waking up late, his eyes had yet to focus as the sunlight broke through the curtains, all slippery, slinky and, in a way, sexy. He ran a hand through his mane of dark spikes. His female counterpart was still fast asleep, her upper body draped over his with the sheets tangled with her legs.

With a sigh, Shikamaru Nara slowly pushed the female off and heaved himself up into a decent sitting position.

She groaned and rolled over, mumbling incoherently.

Shikamaru stood, the double bed creaking ever so slightly at the movement.

He never thought he'd see the day where Ino Yamanaka (now _Nara_) would outsleep him.

Oh well, there was a first for everything.

He stood to open the curtains a little more, seeing as a little more light wouldn't hurt.

Ino mumbled again and he grinned.

Looking around their room, his thoughts drew back to Ino. She could be so childish and sentimental, and the one place it shone through was their room.

Thrown over their bed (although now holding on for dear life) was a blue and white Balinese bedspread, bought on the final day of their honeymoon. On her bedside table was a battered, old panda bear named Hartley. The blue silk pillows had ended up on the floor at some point in the night, their beaded patterns glittering.

A large, gilded mirror shaped like a sun hung above the bed, throwing a sharp red and orange glow on the opposite wall.

Clothes of all sorts littered the ground, ranging from frilly, to drifty, floaty, baggy and to tatty. Most of which were too small for Ino now, but held some delightful memory.

A squashy old armchair draped with a white lace table cloth sat in the corner, reminding Shikamaru of many comfortable afternoon naps.

The shared desk sat next to the armchair, decorated with a collection of items made from red and blue glass, several address books with different flower patters on the covers, coloured pencils, a small kaleidoscope, a plastic pineapple and a glittery mickey mouse clock.

A toppled over pile of books sat at the foot of the bed, a dragon ornament struggling to hold the remaining books and itself upright.

Yes, in ways childish, but very sentimental collection of her life, pushed completely together in an utmost intimate way.

Marriage.

A slow, lingering death in most respects, but very rewarding in others.

He had his daughter, a fiery young woman of seventeen, with her mother's beauty and his mind, and a son of fourteen with his father's looks and a cheekiness to rival his mothers.

He was content.

Assuming both children were out, enjoying the town, Shikamaru donned only a pair of boxers.

When Ino decided to wake, he knew she would be starved. He was as well, but a certain genius part of him told him to forget waiting, and decided that the smell of food would wake her.

Photos littered the hallway, with his daughter looking like a gypsy with her long, dark curls and colourful skirts, and his son with dark blonde hair sitting a chess board, a sly grin on his face (he was very, very arrogant when he knew he was winning, not a Shikamaru-characteristic at all).

The air had a fragrance of salty-sea water, with a dash of coconut oil, a sure fire way of telling him his daughter had left only moments before he had awakened.

The sky was very blue, he noticed, with clouds of the creamy, fluffy variety sitting at peace. The once common thought of life as a cloud was a long gone memory now.

Two plates, one with the remainder of notoriously spicy cauliflower samosas and the other with a few crackers with cream cheese and honey lying about, show him how well his children could look after themselves (not really).

Following the healthy choice of his children, Shikamaru set out to waking his wife up with her newly preferred choice of snack - rice crackers with peanut butter and honey, a cup of coffee with two sugars and a bowl of stewed apple.

Strange mix, but somehow complimented each other, he had to admit.

As he wandered about the kitchen, he spotted a deep purple silk kimono, now used as a dressing gown, sitting over the back of the couch.

In his musings of how the kimono had appeared there, he noticed fresh bread and the newspaper sitting on the bench.

White roses from the garden in a red glass vase were already drooping from the excessive heat. What a waste.

The front door flew open just as Shikamaru pulled the stew out of the microwave (he never said was going to cook it, now did he).

They, Ino and Shikamaru, had stayed away from the tradition of names in the family, as, according to Shikamaru, it was too troublesome.

"Morning, Reina," he sighed as she waltzed in, her dress swishing about her with each step.

She was all glitter and glamour and whirling skirts these days. Although he was watching her closely as she continued to flirt with the Uchiha's eldest (a few months older, a 'complete sweetheart' in her words, but he had seen the boy's ugly side).

Reina walked over, hugged her father quickly, pinched the remaining crackers off of the plate and wandered down the hallway. "Tatsuya will be home soon! I passed him on the way home!" She yelled over her shoulder.

No less than three minutes later, his son came walking in, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He grinned at his dad.

"Hey, old man."

Shikamaru chuckled, setting out several plates and bowls. He knew that the moment he would start preparing food, his kids would come back.

Tatsuya shrugged off his backpack, pulling out several more wrapped samosas, and a closed jug, filled with what he assumed to be a banana smoothie.

"Auntie Hinata sends her 'love' and food," Shouta scoffed as he placed the drink and food on the bench.

"Dad! Could you make me a hot chocolate? And could you put some pudding out? Thanks! I love you!"

Shikamaru sighed. It was peaceful, and now it was not as his daughter was home.

"I see that we have a full house again," came a voice thick with sleep.

Tatsuya grinned and hugged Ino, before moving around the kitchen to get the hot chocolate on.

Ino pulled her kimono back on, and set the table. Shikamaru had left, to quickly pull on a pair of pants in case anyone else decided to show up at the door with a request of food. With his luck, it was entirely possible.

Ino was calling for him and Reina now, although her reply was she was having a bath. Shikamaru shook his head at that and walked out, reaching for the nearest shirt and pulling it on.

Shikamaru sat at the table, Tatsuya sitting next to him and tucking into the samosas before anyone had the chance to say 'go'.

Ino called once again for their daughter, before sitting herself down with her coffee, her crackers, and her stewed apple.

Shikamaru took a few samosas of his own, poured himself a glass of the banana smoothie and leaned back by the time Reina had walked back in, smelling of lavender and sunflowers.

The conversation began from where it had dropped with much enthusiasm, Tatsuya claiming wildly about how he was better than the children of his age at everything, and although he was scolded for being a little too arrogant, with his mind, he probably was better.

Shikamaru watched the wild antics of his family and smiled.


End file.
